


Lunacy [DC Fanfiction/The Joker]

by queensasuke



Category: DCU (Comics), Suicide Squad (2016)
Genre: Anger Management, Arkham Asylum, Bathroom Sex, Car Sex, Crazy, Daddy Joker, Danger, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Falling In Love, Humor, I REPEAT NO RAPE, Im such DC trash, Insanity, Kinky sex, Love, Love Confessions, Love/Hate, M/M, Making Love, Making Out, Mental Anguish, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, NO RAPE IS INVOLVED, Past Joker/Harleen Quinzel, Past Relationship(s), Psychic Abilities, Psychologists & Psychiatrists, Public Sex, Ratings: R, Rough Sex, Sex, Sex Toys, Sexual Frustration, Sexual Violence, The Author Regrets Nothing, True Love, Unhealthy Love, Unhealthy Relationships, Unrequited Love, Wall Sex, bitches need help if you want rape or even past rape, punish me
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-23
Updated: 2017-04-23
Packaged: 2018-10-22 21:25:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10705419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queensasuke/pseuds/queensasuke
Summary: Harleen Quinzel wasn't the only infamous Joker's psychiatrist. Catherine Salvino was assigned to him as well, for their boss felt as though it would make things easier for them. But boy were they wrong, and slowly yet surely they all fell into the gloved hands of The Joker.





	Lunacy [DC Fanfiction/The Joker]

**Author's Note:**

> I'm going to say this once more, but THERE IS NO RAPE. 
> 
> Don't even ask, you will be blocked, and your comment will be deleted.

The date was September 10th 1992, and it was a dark morning. The type of gloomy mornings, were there were only clouds, and no sunshine. Gotham City was often like this, for the place itself seemed inhabited by a dark and overbearing entity. Despite its appearance, it is a surprisingly upbeat town, even if the criminal activity is the most known in Gotham City. Catherine hated it there. The place itself felt like a dark shadow which followed you everywhere, even in the darkness. It stuck itself onto your clothes, seeping through and into your very skin and bones, before touching and grasping onto your core - your soul.

"Good morning, Dr. Salvino," a normal toned voice chirps, as though they were a naturally happy and pleasant person. Catherine didn't believe in such things. For how could someone always be so happy? It wasn't possible. Turning over her shoulder, she met one of her colleagues, Matthew Harps. He was a security guard that worked with her at Arkham Asylum, one of the world's messed up mad houses. The craziest of the craziest go here, people whom were considered abnormal; unfit for society as a whole. She didn't believe in people being crazy. No, Catherine only saw them as people who viewed the world differently than others; who saw everything for what it really was. Maybe she was the crazy one.

"Morning Matthew," she replied smoothly, voice steady and confident. "How are you this morning?"

The rather short brunette hair colored male smiled with such a dorky smile, which made her heart clench because it reminded her so much of her brothers, and answered back with flushed cheeks, "I'm quite alright, now that I get to see you. I brought you a coffee, since it makes you less nervous." Pulling it out from behind him, he hands her the fresh brewing, hot cup of dark coffee. "Three sugars, one milk, and whipped cream and chocolate sprinkles on top."

Stunned, Catherine took it from him and smiled awkwardly, a little surprised and creeped out of how he remembered from that one time he took her out to the local coffee shop down by his house. "Thanks."

Matthew smiled once more before disappearing around the corner, the new security guard schedule had been posted, and he wanted to get a good glance at it before they took it down. Catherine watched him go, and took a small sip, shuddering at how it was exactly her favorite.

"Looks like I was right," a feminine voice muses, "he does have a thing for you."

"Drats, looks like I owe you free Chinese food again, Harleen." Catherine slumps forward with a twisted pout. Harleen Quinzel steps out from the doorway and makes her way to her female friend, high heels clicking with each step she took, and it echoed throughout the break room. Smiling cheekily, Harleen was quick to answer.

"When am I not," she paused, "did you get a chance to see who our new patient is? I hope it's someone interesting, like The Riddler." Ah, The Riddler. The Riddler was a very hard man to catch, as were most notorious mobsters, and gang leaders. Some got caught from time to time, but he wasn't one of them, for he covered his tracks up more quickly than Batman and The Joker would engage in battle. He was smart, brilliant even, and would leave people flabbergasted and flustered. To have him as a patient would not only be an honor, but most psychiatrists would love a chance to pick at his brain.

"I'd rather not," Catherine was not one of those psychiatrists. "As much as I love 'curing' people, and sending them on their merry way, I would prefer to stay far, far away from them." Them, as in the most wanted criminals in the world. Most of them stayed in or on the outskirts of Gotham City. Ever since her family was murdered, Catherine vowed not to get involved in the criminal or dangerous side of life. But as for her friend Harleen, it seemed she was rather drawn to the darkness, even if it was unconsciously. Harleen rolled her blue eyes, slightly annoyed.

"Every time we get assigned to someone with a criminal record, you always back down! Well, I say no more. The next time our patient is a criminal, you have to agree - no, promise me - that you'll work with me on this."

Cringing, she protested, "But, Harleen-"

"Promise me." Harleen held out her pinky, which had her nail coated in a bright pink colored nail polish.

Sighing, Catherine raised her own pinky, grey coating the nail. "I promise."

Knocking, the head of their department entered, her eyes fixed on the two of them. Both girls rose to their feet, to which Harleen was taller - and not because of her heels either- and looked Dr. Crat. "Ladies, I would say nice to see you, but the filing of who you will be your patient has come in." Carefully, Dr. Crat placed the folder down on the table of which they were seated in before. "Your appointment with him is at 10:30 AM." And took her leave, giving both of them a concerned look-mostly towards Catherine, an indication it was a criminal. It was 10:13 AM.

"Great," Catherine mumbled, and waited for Harleen to open it. What they saw next down at the one sided paper, made Catherine freeze with absolute terror- the same terror of when she saw her family being slaughtered mercilessly. The same terror people feel rush through their very veins as they know they're about to die.

_Psychiatrists: Catherine Salvino, Harleen Quinzel._

_Date of publication: September 9th, 1992._

_Patient's Birth Name: Unknown._

_Patients Sobriquet: The Joker._

**The Joker**. Catherine forgot how to breathe for a moment, and when she came to she saw Harleen holding her hand, and rubbing her back supportively. "I'm sorry, Catherine, you don't have to do this if you don't want to. Maybe the next criminal," she muttered weakly, still in her own state of shock, horrification, and fascination.

Biting her plump lip tenderly, Catherine sat there, more like kneeled, and thought to herself. Harleen had a point. Every time the two were assigned, Catherine would back down and upright refuse to take them. She'd leave her friend to do all the work by herself, and take simpler patients-even if they were quite boring.

"I'll…I'll help you," the chestnut haired colored female says to Harleen. "I won't abandon you anymore."

Harleen smiles at her friend, "Thanks, Cat."

 

* * *

 

10:28 AM.

Two minutes before Catherine would meet the world's notorious criminal, the man who's killed thousands of people for the ha-ha's, and who's faced their crime fighter, Batman, and has lived to tell about it. From this point on, everything would change. For better or for worse was still undecided in Catherine's broadened mind.

Dr. Crat stands in front the door to The Joker's room, looking at them and speaking quietly. "He plays with people's minds, finding out their deepest and darkest secrets, their hidden or exposed emotions, and twisting them into the form of something dark and cruel. The Joker is someone to not be taken lightly, and whatever you do, never let him into your mind. That is where you are truly safe."

10:29 AM.

"Good luck," Dr. Crat says, stepping aside, letting the security guards open the door, and shut it behind them, locking it. The Joker's room was obscure, with only one window that allowed the tiniest amount of light to enter. But it was enough for Catherine and Harleen to see him. He sat there in one chair, and across the table were two, which the girls seated themselves in, Catherine towards the window. He had his green hair gelled back, bright blue eyes gleaming with mixed emotions and hostility, and arms tied up in a straight jacket. Though it was suppose to be comforting, Catherine didn't feel as safe, for she got the hidden tension that he was not at all pleased. His body was coated in tattoos, the most obvious ones were the words "damaged" on his forehead blatantly, and the letter "j" written under his left eye. He had a pale, almost completely white, face with blackness surrounding his eyes. Red was painted across his lips, and it formed a little bit of a smile.

The Joker, however, was not smiling.

Harleen Quinzel cleared her throat awkwardly and smiled, "Hello, Mr Joker. My name is Dr. Quinzel, and this is Dr. Salvino. We will be your psychiatrists." At first, he didn't say anything, merely staring at the two with these obscure eyes, as though he was figuring them out by one glance. Harleen stared back at him, a certain look in her eyes, all while Catherine looked out the window beside her, refusing to even glance his way. Though she promised to help, she refused to acknowledge him in the slightest of ways. But, The Joker wasn't having any of it. He was someone who demanded attention - craved it even, and to be ignored as such was something he would not-could not-accpet. Suddenly, he grinned, showing off the metal that was implanted in his teeth, and threw his head back, laughing with such a laugh it boomed throughout the entire room, echoing all around, before settling into Catherine's bones; rattling them, causing little tremors. "Well aren't I lucky man," The Joker says darkly, licking his lips at them. Finally, Catherine took a small glance at him, only to meet smoldering blue eyes that held evil and malicious intents in them. "Ah, so she is alive. Don't you know you're suppose to give your guest all of your attention? Otherwise it's disrespect," his grin diminishes, "and you best not disrespect me, of all people." Catherine shuttered a little, which caused The Joker to grin once more, obviously pleased with himself and his accomplishment.

Something told her it was only the beginning.


End file.
